


bloom

by tnevmucric



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Canon Related, Dialogue Heavy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Implied Sexual Content, Late Night Conversations, M/M, akeshu loving hours, unbetad bc im feelin feelings tonight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-02-15 23:58:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18679930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tnevmucric/pseuds/tnevmucric
Summary: don't blow your mind with why





	bloom

"The feeling of water hitting my empty stomach makes me euphoric", he murmurs. "The abundant control I can have over my systems."

"Until you faint."

"Until I faint", he agrees, "but until then, it is akin to masturbation."

His body is toned and lightly haired, bathed in the cold of the room. If Akira squints, he can see the ghost of a vicious rotweiller beside him: snarling, predatory.

 _Don't come close_ , it says. _I bite._ He leans in anyway, a pleasant shiver funning the joints of his spine when space is made for him on the bed. He sets his cheek on the solid chest underneath him: not at all purposeful enough to indicate intimacy, but with so much familiarity that- were it to be brought up- it couldn't be ignored. Akira could blame it on the cold, even.

He idly traces the others nipple, twisting further on his side to dig his cold toes into warm calves. It ears him a fond, reprimanding slap on the hip but he settles easily. The blankets are neither heavy nor light, and the room holds a certain emptiness that only dawn can promise; in a few hours, he'll need to make his way to school, pass the flickering streetlamp on his left and breathlessly brush past trees and homeless thieves to make it onto the train. He'll get dressed quickly in that awkward way you do when you know people could be looking, but he'll do it in the last cart where the only voyeur possible is security. He might get a coffee at his stop, might go to the public bathroom to see if he looks far too dishevelled to be acceptable. He'll have enough time because he plans it that way.

For now, the dragon sits with him, its face contort in a disgruntled kind of peace. Waiting for movement, waiting for action—the teetering eye between tornado and drought. Later they might sit with their feet hanging over the balcony, unsure of where the water of rain would take them were they to give into chance.

"Goro-", Akira laughs, abrupt and painful to the ear.

Goro Akechi has fallen asleep before him, and it is no gentler than quiet rain.

 

* * *

 

"If only", Goro Akechi says, "every problem could be solved with a simple waltz."

It is a brief and fleeting comment, barely persistent after a discussion of piling case work and failed maths exams. Lately stained dewy by a deepening brain nausea, borne of double-agency, Akira does nothing but speak in short, to the point stattico. He wears weariness like a tired, second skin, and Goro seems content in speaking just enough for the both of them.

Akira stays by the door when he leaves at closing time, adorned in deep reds and aubergine, and can't help but feel the detective's presence linger.

It was he who suggested Akira introduce more colour into his wardrobe.

 

* * *

 

"I lived in a rural area briefly during my youth", Goro mentions one Friday afternoon. They sit on mildew grass facing the water and Akira tries to keep his hands still in his lap. "This place reminds me of a lake I would frequent— my foster family at the time had attempted to cater my interest towards land work like the other children, but I knew there was not where I needed to be."

"It's impressive", Akira insists. "Your drive."

"All the better to decorate my resume with", he simpers in return but his smile is bitter and unpleasant, as if he'd tasted rotten fruit.

He is everything and all of the bland television personality Akira expected, and yet not at all. He dresses for presentation—well-worn (but not unkempt) suits, gloves with the dampening sounds of tightened leather and secured shoes, tied twice and three times for security: shoes that tell Akira he spends a majority of his time in them. He smells of sweetness and fresh water—there is undeniable depth and Akira's apology of surface judgement goes unheard between them. He knows that skin now, just as he knows the freckles beneath it.

"So you left just like that?"

"Yes", he answers with a thoughtful look. "In the end, my being there rose more problems than solutions for the family and I was aquitted. At that point I was old enough to survive independently in my school of choice—which did come in the form of scholarship, fortunately." He smiles strangely. "I apologise, I've spoken far too long. It's been a long time since anyone thought to-"

"Ask." Goro's smile turns flat.

"Yes, I suppose."

Akira twists his sleeves in his fingers; he feels the absence of Morgana belatedly but he knows it's better this way. He leans into Goro's side, reassures him off-handedly that they're hidden by a fair amount of shrubbery and it's comfortable, for what it's worth. To sit with someone and just talk about whatever decides to fill the empty air— _catharsis_ in her finest shoes.

"I want you to know that I consider you a close friend." He feels Goro staring at him but is too afraid to meet the speculation, too afraid of the honesty it would reveal. "I feel like I can share anything with you, and I need you to know that the sentiment goes both ways—if you want it to."

And _oh_ , Akira wants it to go every way possible—wants to invite himself into Goro's bed again tonight and giggle about the chipping glitter nail polish on his toes, wants to listen to the off-kilter melody of Goro's voice while he talks about sci-fi from the 60s and David Bowie identities. He wants to hear about his day, over and over in mundane verse.

"What's changed?", Goro asks and Akira doesn't struggle for words. Not once.

"The definition of a bond, maybe. When I first got here I felt—"

"Alone."

"Alone. Yeah, I met people, and I care about them, I do, but I met you and I just wished I'd met you sooner."

"Why?" Akira frowns when Goro's gloved hand covers his own. If he looks up, he knows his skin will paint redder than the camellias nearby. He holds their fingers together with his other hand and thinks, for the first time he thinks in his life, he feels like a 17 year old kid—and that feels _good_.

"You see me", Akira says. "And I see you."

 

* * *

 

 

"How fluent are you in English?", Akira asks.

Goro's eyes pull open tiredly, his blinking slowed to an abandoned pace as his body resurfaces from the entice of sleep. He curls closer, if possible, and their noses bump clumsily. The dense beat of a different heart against his own should be unnerving, Akira knows, but he aches for more—even as Goro slides his thigh smoothly between his legs, even as the inaudible click of puzzle pieces coming together falls into place, Akira wants _more_ : vocalising it in the weak kiss he plants to the inside of Goro's elbow when the detective squeezes his arms around Akira's neck.

"Fluent", he answers, eyes already sliding shut again. "I made quite a butchering of the language initially."

"I can't imagine you doing anything badly."

"Then I'm doing my job right."

Akira bumps their foreheads together with a scoff and Goro sends him a faint smile. Tonight is calmer than most, and the evening sky has decided to settle into a port wine.

"Has Mementos been too much?", Akira presses quietly. "I can make up an excuse to the others, if you want. Say we need to focus on study for a few weeks." Goro shakes his head.

"It's alright, I know how to handle it—though I do appreciate the thought. Maybe I'll visit for a coffee to keep me going through my current case."

"I'll serve you dinner and nothing more, not until these bags under your eyes clear up." Akira prods the skin there and the appearing wrinkles as Goro scrunches his nose in irritation.

"I could arrest you for slander. Never has an ounce of exhaustion crept onto my face, I have a precise skincare routine exactly for that."

"You're high maintenance."

"Surprised you didn't call me _bitchy_."

"You're too sleepy to heckle tonight." He seals the decision with a kiss, promising and all-merciful. Goro's eyes don't fully close but Akira finds that he doesn't actually mind, too focused on coaxing their lips deeper. He thinks there are words he'd meant to say, to reassure, but the kiss tastes like toothpaste from an hour ago and whatever remains of vanilla lip balm and it is _endearment_  seducing him in prime.

"Do you miss not having the world on your shoulders?"

Akira can't deny that he's not the least bit disappointed at the turn in conversation. Sure, a large percentage of their conversations are, have been and _have to be_ about the Metaverse and Phantom Thieves, but he'd prided himself on having weaned their relationship off of that course.

"I feel safe here", Akira answers somewhat sheepishly. "In what I do. I feel more at home here than I've ever been... I don't need to look backwards to find comfort anymore. I have places for that."

"But you accept to pick up the dirt of society nonetheless."

"I do, yeah." Goro pauses and considers Akira for a long moment, fingers absently twisting the hair at the nape of his neck.

"I share the sentiment, about not needing to look backwards. The wholeness that comes with purpose is intoxicating—maybe you could show me one day."

"Show you what?"

Goro glances at his lips fleetingly. "Your favourite places."

Akira isn't sure which one of them refuses to stray from the other, but he feels pleased when Goro shuts his eyes first. In the minutes it takes for sleep to fully take hold, Goro tells him that whatever it is that he has felt, behind closed doors or sandpaper tongues, it will always be heard should he need an ear to speak to.

And it feels like a band-aid, right over his heart.

 

* * *

 

 

"Where do you go?"

Goro's chosen the lake again, Akira notes, but this time there's the space of a sleeping cat between them. It's a rare surety that Morgana is asleep, but he'd rather not be questioned should there be an abrupt awakening.

"What do you mean?", he asks and Goro gestures lazily, leaning backwards onto his briefcase.

"You always find yourself something to do—you're never _not_ busy."

"Is that a problem?"

"Some might say you reject yourself the closure of privacy and pain, of self-care. You have no compassion for yourself, that itself is painful to see."

"Here I thought you just wanted to know about my 20 jobs and network of confidants all over Tokyo."

"Funny."

They share a grin but the stare Goro holds lets Akira know the conversation hasn't been dropped. He tries to untense his shoulders, absently wiping his nose and looking over the lake.

"It feels better to leave my body for a while and just... blindly _do things_ until I need to be the strong one", he glances sideways at Goro. "Would you call that a coping mechanism?"

"Your gift is your downfall", he answers far too easily. "While you alternate between Persona in the Metaverse, your façade here constantly changes to fit the situation. It isn't healthy, and I even wonder who I speak to sometimes."

"Me", Akira rushes. " _Me_ , always me. Always with you." The words bubble over and fizz out just as quickly, leaving a pasty feeling on Akira's tongue. Goro's eyes squint a hidden smile, a small promise of later, but his words are melancholy.

"If becoming Joker is exactly that, _becoming_ , perhaps you need to revise what it is you believe. I'm afraid you'll run yourself dry if you keep up the way you have been." Akira hesitates, wonders briefly why the only person who wants to call him out on his bullshit is also the only one who wants him dead (a pending statement).

"I felt like I was gone the minute I ripped off that mask", Akira admits. "That's just about a death, don't you think? Enough for one lifetime. I was waiting for God or something to come and get me, wanted to ask Him why He thinks I wanted any of..."

The confession, ice cold, is warmed by Goro's voice.

"A scared man would believe God suffers with us, purposeful through our toils. A brave one fears his answers."

"Do you believe in Heaven?"

"My opinion often fluctuates."

"On who dies?", Akira questions and Goro makes a small noise of consideration.

"On what they deserve."

"What do you think I deserve?"

Morgana's nose twitches in protest when the breeze sweeps grass by his nose; the two teenagers watch him for a moment and he rolls onto his back with a tired yowl, feet barely kicking in his sleep.

"Nothing that has happened to you in the past year", Goro eventually decides. Akira closes his eyes and savours the syllables, squeezing his own hands so tight that even Goro's features pinch.

"I just feel like I'm burning. _Constantly._ Nothing puts out the fire."

"If your house is on fire you need to leave the house."

"I ache to burn with it."

" _Don't_ ", Goro reflexively grasps his wringing hands. "Don't burn with it. If you ever find yourself in doubt, Akira, _find me_. I'll remind you as many times as you need me to."

"My own independent variable."

"I am. I _will be_."

Akira meets his gaze head on.

It's the most honest they've been.

 

* * *

 

 

He's never laid on the bed alone until now.

The window is hefted open, the short drapes flowing almost ghost-like in the cold. He thinks he can feel a beach towel under him ("I don't want you to bleed on my mattress") and his hair begins to dry in a knotted mess over the pillow case. From where he lays, he can spot Goro in the ensuite—guilt is heady in the air. There's discretion and lines being crossed but tonight neither can care and their hearts _burn_ despairingly. Their hearts hesitate. Goro looks small as he re-enters the room, encased in Akira's spare Shujin sweater and leaning a knee on the bed: he holds up a comb

"Can you sit up?"

Akira nods once. He tries to recollect the memory of Goro wrapping bandages around his wrists but finds it too tough to swallow—the bruises sting the most, and he can taste blood lingering on the inside of his cheek even after brushing his molars down to a stark shine. Goro tugs the comb through his hair just enough to straighten it all out before Akira leans backwards into him, a tired breath leaving his chest and a weight sliding off of his shoulders. Who is the traitor to deny comfort at this time?

Akira is held and he almost cries.

"Life will serve us hellbound moments", Goro tells him quietly. "It will feel as though the world is against you at every corner... perseverance must become your closest friend."

" _You_ are my closest friend."

Goro pauses, lingering.

"And you, mine. Tell me how you're feeling."

"Are you asking as my friend?"

"I think we are far past that, don't you?" And _oh_ , Akira shivers, turns in his arms and holds on tight. This is acceptance. This is home.

"You're special to me", Goro adds.

"I almost-", Akira stops. "They handed me a pen to sign my name and I almost stabbed the agent with it. Right in his eye", he says.

Goro's heartbeat maintains its steady melody against his back.

"Your brain and body were acting in self-defence, Akira", he soothes. "That is nothing to be ashamed of."

"You're unphased."

"I can empathise with your situation."

"Tell me more."

"My mother didn't deserve what happened to her", Goro explains. "When I found her aggressor, I did what any other would at that vulnerable age."

"Did you decide you were going to kill him right then? When you found her hanging?"

"Yes."

Akira's tongue swabs over his teeth. He thinks he might have a fever growing, or hunger gnawing— he can't tell.

"They'll want to hurt you, the others. Blame you."

"Let them."

"They don't understand."

"They never will, not in full. I can live with that. You can live with that."

"Not without you."

Goro's lips impulsively kiss his shoulder.

"That's nice to hear."

"You think that no matter what, Shido's death is a fixed point. And every death with it, collateral", Akira states. "Even if your death is apart of it—when we met, you would have let me die, too. That's changed."

"How does that make you feel?"

"Wanted", Akira admits. " _Loved_. Tell me what you think about."

"You. Constantly."

"How does that make you feel?"

Goro considers the cut on his lip when Akira looks up at him, smoothing over his cheek with a hand almost reverent. "Forever indebted."

"In words that aren't so cryptic."

Together, they must taste like a virgin's kiss, Akira decides. Unexperienced, vulgar, and complimented with a twist of fresh cherry. This level of intimacy is new and alive— for once they don't fear inevitable death around the corner.

His arms stretch out blind and seeking and Goro meets him halfway. _The pain_ , he thinks. It's the pain that's drawn them close: the same thread restitching over and over... it takes moments for Goro to debauch him on the bed, minutes to swallow him whole.

"Walk me through to your favourite place", Goro murmurs against his lips. Akira thinks, in a distant haze of euphoria, were their brains a shared collective path, flowers would bloom each boarder. He could tell Goro of the pleas and screaming that fill some places on the grounds where Akira himself cannot go—remnants of palaces he's accidentally kept and called his own. He tries to find words but tonight he has none.

Akira can smell him. He is breathing him. He is involved and he loves. He loves.

"A bedroom", he states eventually. "There's a plant in the corner someone keeps forgetting to water and there's a nail polish stain on the carpet."

"Is there sun?"

"Only very early in the morning. Too early to be acceptable—but I desire it. The smell of it, the taste. The safety."

"Lean out to the sky", Goro promises with one more kiss, "it will come back."


End file.
